


Bad Habit

by Geistliche



Series: Doors [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geistliche/pseuds/Geistliche
Summary: "Close your eyes. It's easier to let your thoughts die that way."





	Bad Habit

Messy days like this triggered memory – it was always there, like the unnoticed note left under a pillow, ready to be picked up but having its appointment delayed by clueless eyes. The endless, tiring fight of taking control of his own mind couldn't do more than leaving the next meeting in suspension, but the agitation of unsettling events could bring them to the surface, like water filling up a glass tank, no exit known. He had no choice but to drown. It was the most welcome kind of pain. 

It didn't do him any good that he still could feel Jaebum's presence so furiously, even when he made no visit, but Jinyoung loved the purple stained pull of its misery, and the feeling of falling in a sea of stars. 

He thought he would be the one to leave, that he was going to be the first one to completely break and run for cover, but now he found himself surrounded by the same vile story, cleaning up dirt he did not hold any responsibility for. He guessed he could blame it on his damnable weakness of mind; he didn't want to have to start a war with himself just to get through it all, so he just gave in. To the ugly part of himself, to his destiny, doom, whatever they name it. 

He knew he could try – he knew he _should_ try – because he knew he had gotten back alive once, just in the beginning. Yet this time the circumstance was completely different, for he didn't have Jaebum. Not anymore. 

Reckless addiction, fights, secrets buried with the filthy smell of death: that was precisely how they met. And back then they were both different people – a student dragged to a scene he didn't want to be a part of and a man holding the patience to set things right with cold resistance. Jinyoung could see it all clearly even now; the fight to understand the jumbled and panicked words he was hearing, the broken attempt at an explanation for a mistake, the sudden hit of realization, the sickness and nightmares that hunted him for so long while he was thrown in shadows with no one to hold onto. 

He came back, eventually, and part of him gave credit to himself, his own skill in connecting the dots and creating the perfect exit. The other gave it to Jaebum, and that second part was unmistakably right. It was Jaebum the one to see through Jinyoung and grab him in the middle of his silent struggle, encouraging him to give voice to his paranoia, his concerns, anything that would guide him in the right direction to fixing things up. Somewhere along the way, during tired nights arguing and setting up lies that looked too much like the truth, he found comfort in a man he had previously found too bleak to like. He stepped closer without even realizing how undeniable his interest was, and eventually came across with understanding and the sweet taste of reception – though with Jaebum the taste was rather sour, and Jinyoung, slowly gathering his broken pieces off the floor, found that oddly alluring. More of that couldn't have made him feel like it was enough. 

It wasn't sweetness that made him come back to his own self, but the company of someone who instead of cradling him to sleep with soft words brought him back to the reality of his situation and pushed him to work even then. Never telling things were going to be okay, because Jinyoung could never believe they were, and such blatant lies would only unsettle him more. He should have felt weird that nothing seemed to break Jaebum's expression besides pure, cruel anger, but he found that stern personality of him soothing. At the time, it made sense he would feel so. 

He didn't know how they worked together so well, how they didn't crash and burn, but he couldn’t deny the deep understanding they had of each other. It ran deep in their veins, like blood inside him called for blood inside Jaebum. Now his veins felt poisoned. Every time he allowed the memories to return so strongly his corrupted blood would burn. He could feel it boil, he could smell the rot in his own cells and almost see through his skin at the green of his blood – the dark, muddy color of soldiers. Maybe the vomit of invisible monsters was what homesick felt like. 

Tonight he felt restless. He felt like gathering his things and running away. Or leaving them all, he didn't really care. The itch on his skin told him the ghost of his long gone partner was near, and he felt anxious being so aware of that. It hadn't happened in a while. 

Jinyoung took off his clothes, put on a plain white t-shirt and carried his heavy body to the bathroom. He stopped by the sink and took in his expression in the mirror. He looked awfully tired, dark circles under his eyes that scared away the magic of his eye wrinkles and face so pale some would mistake him for the spirit of a dead man. He sighed and bent down to wash his face, his whole body sore from the day and pained with the effort. He had to gather even more strength to get his torso up and pick up a towel to dry himself. Eventually he put the towel down, but his hands lost its grip as he found Jaebum staring at him through the mirror. 

He didn't look any different from what Jinyoung remembered; large shoulders that looked like they could hold up the sky, dark hair parted to show the skin of his forehead, thin lips and his equally thin and narrow eyes. Jinyoung didn't move. He couldn’t move. He was so very tired he was afraid any small effort he took to react would have him falling to his knees. So he just stared. And Jaebum just stared, too. Eventually, Jaebum broke the chain that was biding the oceans of their eyes together and smiled – no teeth, but it was enough to make Jinyoung let out a gasp. 

Good, almighty lord. That could break him even in memory. 

"You don't look so good," Jaebum said. 

"I'm not." 

"And why is that?" 

Jinyoung frowned. "You know why." 

_You're not real. Not real. Not. Real._  

The smile left Jaebum's lips. He didn't answer. He lift his right hand and slowly cupped the curve of Jinyoung's neck, and if that didn't make his legs give in and fail at holding his weight it was only because Jaebum's left hand moved to keep him still by the waist; his touch was magnetic and anything it commanded Jinyoung's body followed without question. Jaebum slowly caressed the base of the other man's neck and broke eye contact, finding more interest in watching the pale skin of the other, as if he was waiting for something to happen. 

Jinyoung could feel his throat choked up and burning as tears started to fill and pain his lifeless eyes. He took his time just _feeling_ , enjoying the awareness that ran through his body at the touch of the small hand that now held only one small silver ring. He closed his eyes for a moment as his mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening. They never touched. He never felt the ghost's skin on his own since it started making him company. Why now? Why? Why? _Why_ _?_  

"I'm here," he could feel Jaebum's hot breath on his ear as his body responded, breaking waves trying to escape its hard surface. 

He opened his eyes and let the tears fall free. "I couldn't leave them." 

_Weak_. That was the word running through his head as he spoke, almost dying to confess. Weak for not honoring his own promise and ruining up the only good thing that came out of a jungled mess of ripped flesh and bones and ending up a miserable haunted hypocrite. He wanted to say more, to go down on his knees and ask for forgiveness now that he felt like his memories weren't memories at all, but undeniable reality. He wanted to scream, but his voice wouldn't come out. He wanted to tear himself apart, piece by broken piece so he could be picked up by those cold, firm hands once again. He found himself standing over a bridge in the middle of nowhere, dark clouds predicting a storm that never came, the noise of the wind overflowing his senses and turning his soul into an uneasy waste of space. Never calm, but never raging either. 

He felt old and burdened with more than his own errors; the consequences of being part of a scheme so crooked was never ending, for he held the truth not only of himself but of every other involved party. It was all so much more than he could take at this point. Alone, that was. He missed this familiar touch and this pacifying voice; he missed a known face with strong enough bones to forge him new ones out of his own. He needed love rooted in ceaseless partnership – such a strong sense of loyalty the world was made of radiant bodies. 

And he managed to throw it all into the trash. 

He gave it all up and went back to limbo. He could've tried to make things better. He could've tried to stay. Even when his lungs were failing and he needed the hands that couldn't help him any longer, he could have tried. He was scared, yes, but he was also selfish. If Jaebum was still alive somewhere, anywhere, he would never forgive him. And Jinyoung wouldn't ask him to. 

He wasn't sure if he could manage to live like this for much longer, through mirages and old pieces of reality - and even less sure if he actually wanted to. There was no point to live if he only fed from his own reminders of regret. 

But looking at Jaebum's face on the mirror through his falling tears, he saw him give only a small nod. Then he finally let out of Jinyoung's neck and slowly moved away from him, leaving the bathroom. "Come. You need to lie down. I'll heat you up a glass of milk." 

For a moment he just stood there, grabbing at the sink so he wouldn't fall and trying to breathe normally again. Finally, he gathered his strength and went to his empty bedroom, knowing Jaebum wouldn’t be there. He needed to be completely alone for a few minutes. Well, technically, he was, but he didn't want to give the fact too much thought. 

He lay on his bed, slightly comforted by the late afternoon sun streaming from the window, and closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep without even realizing, fatigue calling him anesthetized. When he opened his eyes the room was partially dark and he could make out Jaebum's figure sitting on a chair near his bed, the lampshade light on. 

"Your milk is already cold by now," Jaebum stated from the dark. Jinyoung didn’t know hallucinations could interact with material objects on that level, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask Jaebum about it. "I would have woken you up, but you were too tired. I thought it was best for you to sleep." 

Jinyoung sat, watering his dry lips. "Why are you still here?" 

"Why do you still need me to be here?" 

"I don’t." He struggled to reply. 

"Don’t you?" Jaebum got up from his chair to sit beside him. "Then why, Jinyoung, am I here?" 

He should have the answer. He knew that. But he didn’t want to think about it, and he wasn’t going to start searching for it in the depth of his pain, of his trauma, of his still so very much alive love. The only thing he could do was watch in despair as every bit of sanity was stripped away from him, giving space to the sadness he could no longer keep hidden from himself. And he was losing that, too. 

"Can I help a little, at least?" Jaebum asked. 

Jinyoung let out a breath. He wasn't able to say no yet, so he just nod in agreement. Jaebum got up again from his place to sit behind him. He felt the man's hands on his shoulders, massaging the places he was tense and hurting. He tried to relax as much as possible, but he couldn’t when his past burned so alive on his skin. 

"Close your eyes. It's easier to let your thoughts die that way." 

So he did. And he cleared up his mind from anything and everything else, picturing a blank room, no memories, no regrets, no past to worry about, no ghosts to haunt his present. He could feel himself relaxing more now. It felt good. It felt like before. The touch still burned, but he wanted more of it. Then the massage stopped and he felt a kiss being placed on his neck, so cold he shivered. He opened his eyes, his body frozen and heart drumming fast in his chest. Then he felt another kiss and his mind dizzied. _He shouldn’t be able to do this. He shouldn’t be able to do this. He shouldn’t be able to_ _–_  

__Another kiss, this one behind his ear, and he started feeling sick, his stomach searching for food that wasn’t there to throw it up. He wanted, above all, for this nightmare to stop. He wasn’t ready for the moments that came to his mind, triggered by the kisses, real moments he had thrown in the garbage when he decided that all was lost and Jaebum would never come back. He felt himself choking again, and his hand grabbed on the sheets as if holding onto something would stop him from falling into blackness.

"Stop,' he managed to let out when Jaebum kissed him again, on his left shoulder. "Please, stop." 

Then there was silence, and he felt as uneasy for that as grateful. "I don’t want to go." 

He didn’t want Jaebum to go, either. But that was the point of the whole thing, wasn’t it? To keep him alive, to keep his guilt and their tragedy alive, so he could punish himself and try to honor his memory of Jaebum at the same time. The problem was that it all started to get too real, and he knew he shouldn’t have let it get this far. This wasn’t Jaebum, even though it looked, smelled and felt like him. This wasn’t Jaebum now, and he knew it. This man – this ghost, this hallucination, this nightmare, or whatever the fuck he was – was not real, and in the real world Jinyoung would not get a chance to be beside the man he loved ever again. He couldn’t keep his self-hatred and his selfishness feed from the best story he was a part of anymore, even if it finally killed him to burn it to ashes. 

"Look at me," the ghost's voice was shaking as he spoke the words. "Please. Look at me, please, Jinyoung." 

He wanted to. Hell, how he wanted to look at that perfectly sculpted face, take it on his hands and kiss it until his lips felt tired. But he couldn’t if he wanted him to go. He knew that if he turned back and looked at those dark eyes and saw all the hurt overflowing from them he wouldn’t have the courage to send him away again. This wasn’t the first time he tried to do it, but it was the first he truly wanted, deep inside him, to succeed. 

"I can't." He closed his eyes and let the salt of the tears burn them again. He let go of the sheets, digging his nails in the palm of his hand, giving himself something real to keep his attention focused on. 

"I don’t want to go," the heartbreak in the ghost's voice was too heavy, but Jinyoung's heart was breaking too. It had been breaking for a long time. He'd just learned to keep himself away from the knowledge of it. "I don’t want to leave you." 

Jinyoung felt his throat closing, and he swallowed hard before forcing the words to leave his mouth. "You should. I want you to. Just this time. Please, just this one time, please, go." 

He felt something wet on his shoulder, and through the expectation he kept his eyes closed, waiting for the ghost to fight, to challenge him, to lure him into giving up once again. Even when Jaebum's ghost didn’t say anything else, he did not open them, letting the tears fall like oceans and his heart bleed through the cracks of his skin. When he felt, for the first time in months, that he was swimming instead of drowning and a bright emptiness weighted behind him, he finally let his eyes wander through the hollow of the room. 

Beside him a glass of milk waited alone over his dresser.

**Author's Note:**

> This short mess of a fic was inspired by one of JB's song, Bad Habit, and by a JJP fanart I saw on twitter. This fic is part of a series I plan to write that is inspired by all of the songs Jaebum released on soundcloud. Not all of them will be JJP centered (I doubt they will even be from the same universe), but there is another fic of the series I will write of this pairing. The backstory is not explored here for a reason, that is: I plan to write a chaptered fic about all that happened back then circling all of GOT7 - I don't know when, though, so don't expect too much. English is not my first language, so you can call out any grammar mistakes to me and I'll correct it. Also, any feedback is awesome; I just got back to writing stories and would appreciate it a lot if you guys gave me your opinion. Thanks for reading!


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